Gravity (v.1)
Title: Gravity (v.1)
Author:
signalfire
Pairing: Sterek
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3820
Spoilers: S2 finale
Warnings: Sex, mpreg, bad language, bestiality,
Summary: He feels the warm ache in his body that is, he decides, just a permanent horniness. It is like being thirteen. Just like hitting puberty again. Except this time everyone is really, really nice to him. The rest of the pack at least. Not that they aren't anyway, but as the days push on to his first flourish of werewolf fertility the pack are overwhelmingly affectionate, touching and cuddling him, getting him things, very attentive to his needs.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Unbeta'd, sorry!
Written for this prompt at teenwolfkink
This version includes full wolf form sex. That's wolves. And sex. Just so we're clear. There's a second version here with human sex if that makes you uncomfortable. I like to cater to everyone's needs.
Stiles' first heat comes exactly a week after his eighteenth birthday. Derek has been expecting it for a while; every month, Stiles' scent has changed slightly and the rest of the pack are also very, very aware of it. And of course Stiles knows. He knows firstly because it's his body and it's changing slightly and it isn't that Derek is getting more attractive to him but his thoughts are beginning to run away with him and he might as well be thirteen again. Derek warned him when he turned him, and he's read about it as well. Because Stiles has to know everything.
Derek is expecting it but that doesn't mean he's at all prepared for the full impact of it on him. He's been around other wolves in heat, of course, male and female. But none of them have been his mate. And that is the problem. Because with Stiles in heat Derek can't think straight, he can't think of anything other than throwing Stiles down and putting babies in him. He wants to see him grow bigger, wants to see him glowing in his pregnancy. It's in his nature to want this. To take Stiles, to make him sweat and beg and moan and have something beautiful result from it. Not just their pleasure. Sex is awesome, but this sex has purpose. And Stiles wants it too. He doesn't need to tell Derek verbally. His body, every gesture of it, is pleading with Derek to fill him. And it's making Derek panic.
But for Stiles it is less of a problem. He feels the warm ache in his body that is, he decides, just a permanent horniness. It is like being thirteen. Just like hitting puberty again. Except this time everyone is really, really nice to him. The rest of the pack at least. Not that they aren't anyway, but as the days push on to his first flourish of werewolf fertility the pack are overwhelmingly affectionate, touching and cuddling him, getting him things, very attentive to his needs. Of course, he realises, it's in their nature to do that and take care of him because he is the mate of their Alpha and he will be providing babies for the pack.
Stiles doesn't freak out about this. Derek clearly does. He's jittery and wound up in a way that is probably natural, because their bodies want them to fuck. A lot. But Derek knows there is no way he'll be able to prevent getting Stiles pregnant. Eighteen-year-old Stiles. For one thing, Stiles' dad will kill him. For another thing, Stiles is eighteen, which no one else seems to be bothered about. Only Derek.
He makes the painstaking decision to not go anywhere near Stiles for the whole week of his heat. And it isn't just painful for Derek, throwing himself into isolation as far from everyone as he can get within reason, because he can still smell Stiles wherever he is. Because nature wants them to make babies and Derek is denying it and his cock is very, very displeased. It was expecting something and Derek is not delivering. It's painful for Stiles, too, not only because his body aches in a way that makes him wholly and a million percent sympathetic towards the girls around him, but because he loves Derek and he isn't around. He's pining. Worse, he feels constantly empty, constantly hungry, and God if he doesn't just want Derek inside him-
And with Derek absent and Stiles pining the rest of the pack are miserable as well. No amount of group hugs help anyone.
But Stiles is annoyingly understanding when Derek pads back home a week later, looking very sorry for himself and mumbling apologies. He's annoyingly understanding and incredibly loving and he understands, of course he understands, he felt it and it was frightening. The need. Actually needing someone like that, just a smell or a look or a touch enough to make him want to rip his clothes off and throw himself at Derek's feet and beg.
Derek nods and nods because he's been hard for a week now and though Stiles' scent is ebbing back to it's normal though no less glorious levels every time their skin meets it is fire through his nerves and yes, they'll need to go to bed soon because otherwise he's going to come in his pants from holding hands and he isn't thirteen-
Stiles nods and presses closer and yes, yes, of course, but do they have to go through this again next time? And the time after that? Because it's Hell and how is he supposed to be happy knowing they're going to be apart like that again? And again and again...
“You're eighteen, Stiles,” Derek says, because he is certain that everyone around here has forgotten. “You graduate soon, and then you're going to college. I'm not going to knock you up and steal your future,” he grumbles, pressing his face into Stiles' neck and breathing him in.
“Derek,” Stiles' voice is adopting the soft, reprimanding tone he uses when Derek is far too self-deprecating and there's no room for that here. (Derek enjoys it when Stiles reprimands him, even if he'll never admit it.) “Derek, you are my future. I don't know why you think I wouldn't factor this in to my life plan when you were all 'oh, Stiles, I can't live without you, you're my mate Sti-'” Derek nips and his neck and Stiles snorts. “No, but did you really think I wouldn't factor that in? You know I read up on everything. You know I knew what would happen and I still told you to bite me.”
“I like to think it was a little more romantic than that,” Derek says, lifting his face from Stiles' neck and smiling despite himself.
“Well, yeeeah, I guess, but that aside, Derek, I know what we're doing,” Stiles nods, running his fingers slowly across the back of Derek's head and smiling back at him. “I know you'll fill me with werepuppies and we'll have a big family and I'm fine with that. I want that. It's not like I can't work around the pups...” Derek snorts. He didn't think he could possibly love Stiles any more than he did, but apparently it's entirely possible. “...I could even work from home, once we get the house functioning properly and get WIFI. The babies aren't running around there as it is, they'll get splinters in their paws.”
This time Derek lifts his head, looking down at his partner with incredulous adoration.
“You know they aren't actually going to be puppies, don't you?” he asks.
Stiles grins. “I am ready for this, Derek,” he says, running his fingers through Derek's hair. “We're doing this.”
“Your dad is going to kill me.”
“He might try, yeah.”
“Stiles!”
“Ah, it's fine. I'll make sure he doesn't. It'll be okay.”
~*~
Stiles doesn't have another heat until the first week of summer, which is good because then school is over, they've graduated, they're free. And again everyone knows that it's coming. Derek begins to get agitated about a week before it starts, looking at Stiles as though he's angry with him, but it gives Stiles chills because he knows that every time he looks at him Derek is thinking about fucking him.
Which he really is. He wants Stiles beneath him, around him, clinging to him, begging him- he wants to make him come hard, wants to come inside him, fill him, leave him spent and satisfied and full of his babies.
And Stiles' scent tells him his mate wants it just as much.
The rest of the pack become slightly over excitable, though Stiles really doesn't mind. He relishes the affection as he did the first time, though this time he knows he isn't going to be abandoned and left feeling empty and numb. Because the way Derek looks at him he knows he's biding his time, counting down the moments before he claims him properly.
Peter obligingly takes the pack away for a few nights. He says they're going to Vegas. They probably do, but Derek doesn't care and Stiles barely notices they're gone.
It all reaches a peak suddenly and it's like a switch inside him is flicked. He's suddenly solely focussed on Derek, standing on the other side of the room, his eyes on him like a caress.
“Bed,” Stiles says. Derek follows, though not all the way. He stands in the doorway and watches Stiles as he climbs onto the bed and rolls, pressing his face into the pillows and then wriggling on the covers, his clothes feeling rough against his skin that is a hundred-thousand times too sensitive at the moment. And he so desperately wants Derek to join him.
But Derek isn't moving, no matter how much they clearly want to be on each other, and it takes a moment for Stiles to realise that he has to give Derek some kind of permission, a signal that he is ready for him.
Derek's eyes are a soft red and Stiles realises he's close to shifting, but he's holding back- waiting. If Stiles ever doubted Derek loved him this is all the proof he needs to push those concerns away.
“Take your clothes off,” Stiles whispers, wondering if being commanding is something he can get away with right now.
Apparently it is, because Derek obediently pulls his shirt off, unveiling his upper body, his skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat, no doubt from restraining himself.
Stiles' eyes devour him greedily and this sight alone would be enough to make him all the more desperate, but for the addition of Derek's scent, trapped beneath his shirt but now filling the air around them and making Stiles all but drunk with desire.
Derek's hands move to his belt and then the buttons and zipper of his jeans in quick succession until he's stood in only his underwear and Stiles is staring longingly at the very obvious bulge of Derek's cock. Then the boxers are gone and Stiles feels an ache deep, deep inside of him. He can see the need in Derek's eyes, see how he's barely holding himself together, and Stiles can't deny either of them anymore.
The mixed sounds of their breathing and heartbeats is all that can be heard as Stiles swiftly and ungracefully pulls off his own clothes. Derek's gaze burns into him and Stiles finally eases himself back onto the bed.
Even though they don't need the bed, even though they'll probably ruin it. He rolls onto his back, stretches and shifts.
It's a liberating feeling but for the overwhelmingly heightened senses, thiough this time it's only Derek. All that he can smell and hear is Derek and when he opens his eyes he sees his mate, large and dark and shaggy, pacing restlessly up and down beside the bed, his red eyes never leaving Stiles.
Stiles' tail wags. He's still on his bed and he whines once and only once before Derek leaks up beside him.
Stiles is a beautiful wolf. His back and tail and legs are dark brown, almost black. His muzzle, throat, and belly are white.
They look at each other, Stiles' tail still wagging as Derek steps forward, paws either side of his mate's body. He dips his head and licks Stiles' nose. Stiles is completely enamoured and gently tips his head back, exposing his throat to Derek's nose or tongue or teeth if he so chooses, offering himself up.
He hears Derek growl and it's certainly a happy noise. His nose presses into Stiles' throat and he nuzzles and Stiles' whines and now there is no reason for either of them to hold back.
Stiles rolls on to his belly beneath Derek, pressing his nose against the pillow where Derek's regular, comforting smell lingers, because even though every part of him is naturally and eagerly responding to Derek he is still nervous. Not about mating o babies or even the fact that they have never fucked as wolves before - he's nervouse because he wants this to be good. Because it's important, because he just wants to blow Derek's mind in every way he can.
Derek nuzzles into the nape of his neck and Stiles feels the press of Derek's cock against his tailbone. He moves slightly, lifting his lower body, pushing his tail to one side and bracing himself despite the now almost painful ache in his body as it demands to be filled.
Derek is a whimpering mess before he can even mount Stiles. The fur around Stiles' entrance is wet and Derek has no idea why they haven't done this before. He thinks that he's embarrassingly close to coming already, even before the blinding pleasure that follows his cock finally sinking into Stiles' body.
Stiles whimpers beneath him, but his own cock is leaking onto his belly and the sheets. Derek is bigger - or feels bigger - in wolf form, but the stretch doesn't hurt. It's oh so satisfying, a soul deep satisfaction that is blinding in it's wonder.
Derek growls, verbalising a similarly satisfied sensation as Stiles' body quivers and grips him when he thrusts in, slow at first, easing the full length of his cock into Stiles and then drawing back, tantalisingly sweet pressure and friction that make him groan softly with every inward thrust of his hips. He can hear Stiles whimpering happily beneath him and he knows from the arch of his mate's back and the tip of his head that, whilst really good, he wants more. Derek's chest is pressed to Stiles' spine, his paws braced by the curve of Stiles' forelegs where they rest on the bed. He's braced and steady and he can use the power in his hind legs to push forward faster, harder, the pleasure doubling instantly. Rumbles of happiness roll in his chest and below Stiles continues to whine softly, lifting his lower body higher, to take Derek deeper, clawing helplessly at the sheets they really will need to replace now.
Stiles is panting slightly. Derek really does feel huge and the deeper he thrusts the bigger he feels but the more satisfied he is. Derek is pressing into his core and Stiles is complete. He is complete and he can tell from the way that Derek is fucking him that he's getting closer and closer. He'll knot just before he comes and Stiles looks forward to that. To that tight, full feeling that will follow, that will be the climax (literally and metaphorically) of this love making. His body will do the rest. And that thought alone is enough to send a jolt of pleasure right through him, making his muscles tremble and pulling a growl from Derek. The growl is followed by the incredible sensation of Derek's cock swelling inside him. Really swelling.
Derek bites the scruff of Stiles' neck gently, as though he needs to hold him in place, as though Stiles is going to leave before they're done. But he's beginning to knot and he's close, so close, and it's quicker than he'd have wanted but he can't help himself. Stiles feel tighter and tighter and Derek growls finally, the sound slightly muffled by Stiles' fur, but the little howl of pleasure from his mate is a perfect substitute. Derek comes and he shudders with the force and the intensity of it, grateful for the position they're in or he probably wouldn't be able to keep himself standing.
Stiles feels the rush of heat deep in his body. He's felt it before- Derek has come inside him before, but this time it's different. This time it feels as though the heat ebbs through every space inside of him.
His orgasm is hard and blinding and makes his legs shake and his muscles can't contract around Derek so all he feels is full, blissfully full. He can feel the pounding of Derek's heart against his back and the continuous pulse in his cock. His back legs lower slowly so that he's laying on the bed with Derek laying on him, his mate nuzzling his neck and licking his ears in what Stiles knows would be passionate, post-coital kisses if they were in human form. He'd wag his tail if Derek weren't still filling him.
~*~
Stiles knows immediately, the morning after kind of immediately. It's an odd sensation to realise that whilst you were sleeping your body was going about starting to make a baby. It's not bad yet. It's not a morning sickness kind of knowing. It's just a knowing.
He tells Derek as soon as he wakes up and the expression on Derek's face is one of the most beautiful things Stiles has ever seen. A bashful yet proud smile that, as the day progresses, as the rest of the pack wake up and notice, turns into a rather smug grin. Because they do notice straight away and Stiles has to admit that he loves the attention, the way they shuffle around him in wonder because he's carrying their alpha's baby.
Derek spends a lot of his time fussing properly, fetching unnecessary things that Stiles doesn't need (mainly food, so he's sure he's putting on actual fat rather than baby weight) and shouting at the rest of the pack to try and get the house in some kind of shape before his first child arrives.
Stiles loves being pregnant. He takes to it the way he takes to every odd challenge that has been faced with; with enthusiasm and some dignity. Some. Because he really does enjoy the way everyone fusses over him. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac forever want to be near him or fetch him things or touch him and it's nice, it's really, really nice. And Derek is growly and over protective, which is enjoyable. And Scott is confused most of the time they're together. Which is a lot. Because Derek doesn't trust Scott with any of the home improvements, so he's roped in to take care of Stiles when the rest of them are busy. It's confusing for Scott for many reasons, the least of all is that Stiles is carrying a baby werewolf. The most confusing thing is actually that his best friend is having a baby, and is going to be a parent. And the enormity of this is mind blowing. And terrifying. Especially since Stiles is just so relaxed about the whole thing.
But summer passes and Stiles is only three months pregnant when Scott and Allison, and Lydia, Jackson, and Boyd all head for colleges. Harder still than their sudden absence is the fact that they won't be there for the birth or the difficult few months of the last trimester when Stiles, whilst only sporting a very small bump and perfectly capable of looking after himself, is miserable and lonely and cries for hours and doesn't let Derek console him, which distresses Derek a great deal.
"My wife was exactly the same," Sheriff Stilinski says when Derek, completely stricken and without any other option, brings Stiles home to his dad and the familiar surroundings of his room. "And I did exactly the same thing. We had to high tail to New York for two months so that she could be with her mom."
Derek is partially comforted and partially upset that he can't be the supportive partner he wishes to be. But the Sheriff, God bless him, lets Derek stay too. And never once breathes a word about the fact that his eighteen year old boy is on the verge of parenthood. With a werewolf. Because it's probably obvious that Derek dotes on Stiles, and there isn't really a bad word he can say against his son's mate, even when he finds him splayed grumpily in wolf form in the driveway looking oddly more stressed out than he did in human form.
"Pre-parenthood nerves, buddy," the sheriff says, stooping to pet Derek's head. Derek's tail wags slightly. It's nice to be understood.
Stiles goes into labour in the middle of the day, when Derek is watering the plants in the back yard and Mr. Stilinski is reading the newspaper out loud to him. Derek hears Stiles' first whimper and pales so suddenly the sheriff thinks he's going to pass out. And then Stiles moans and both men stare at each other, fearful, nervous, and excited all in one second. One second before Stiles slams open the back door and glares at them, the front of his trackpants soaked from his waters breaking, the look in his eyes both deadly and alarmed. His fingers grip the door frame, his other hand resting against his stomach.
“I'm going to kill you both very slowly if you don't do something right now-” he growls.
Derek was around for the birth of his brothers and sisters. Home births are a necessity with wolves, just in case there's a furry little problem, rare as it is. So he knows what he's doing. Kind of. And Sheriff Stilinski was there when Stiles was born, so he has his son's hand in his own, a rather dazed look on his face as he realises, once again, that his son is giving birth.
Their daughter is tiny and perfect, though, with a shock of dark hair and Stiles' huge brown eyes. Derek openly weeps once he's handed her to his mate, sinking down to the floor beside the bed and staring at the two of them as though he's about to burst with all of the love inside him. Mr. Stilinski slips away to 'give them some privacy', though both Derek and Stiles can hear him on the phone to Scott's mom, crying and babbling on about his granddaughter.
Stiles is tired. He's tired to the very marrow of his bones but he's equally fascinated by the way she seems to know instinctively want to do as she wriggles against his chest and finds his nipple, her tiny hands kneading the area around it to stimulate the milk flow. Stiles stares at her in wonder and then at Derek beside him. The miracle of life indeed.
Derek watches the two of them lazily, his fingers running up and down the inside of Stiles' arm, a dopey smile on his face. He partially debates whether he should ask Stiles if he has any regrets because there really is no going back now, but Stiles is staring at their baby with such adoration, petting her messy almost-black hair as she quietly suckles, that there's no point. The love is completely instantaneous for both of them. Their eyes meet, flicking towards each other and they share a smile.
“This is just the start,” Stiles grins lazily, lifting his hand up and patting Derek gently on the cheek. “Sour wolf doesn't look so sour any more.”
“Shut up, Stiles.”
Author:
signalfire
Pairing: Sterek
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3820
Spoilers: S2 finale
Warnings: Sex, mpreg, bad language, bestiality,
Summary: He feels the warm ache in his body that is, he decides, just a permanent horniness. It is like being thirteen. Just like hitting puberty again. Except this time everyone is really, really nice to him. The rest of the pack at least. Not that they aren't anyway, but as the days push on to his first flourish of werewolf fertility the pack are overwhelmingly affectionate, touching and cuddling him, getting him things, very attentive to his needs.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Unbeta'd, sorry!
Written for this prompt at teenwolfkink
This version includes full wolf form sex. That's wolves. And sex. Just so we're clear. There's a second version here with human sex if that makes you uncomfortable. I like to cater to everyone's needs.
Stiles' first heat comes exactly a week after his eighteenth birthday. Derek has been expecting it for a while; every month, Stiles' scent has changed slightly and the rest of the pack are also very, very aware of it. And of course Stiles knows. He knows firstly because it's his body and it's changing slightly and it isn't that Derek is getting more attractive to him but his thoughts are beginning to run away with him and he might as well be thirteen again. Derek warned him when he turned him, and he's read about it as well. Because Stiles has to know everything.
Derek is expecting it but that doesn't mean he's at all prepared for the full impact of it on him. He's been around other wolves in heat, of course, male and female. But none of them have been his mate. And that is the problem. Because with Stiles in heat Derek can't think straight, he can't think of anything other than throwing Stiles down and putting babies in him. He wants to see him grow bigger, wants to see him glowing in his pregnancy. It's in his nature to want this. To take Stiles, to make him sweat and beg and moan and have something beautiful result from it. Not just their pleasure. Sex is awesome, but this sex has purpose. And Stiles wants it too. He doesn't need to tell Derek verbally. His body, every gesture of it, is pleading with Derek to fill him. And it's making Derek panic.
But for Stiles it is less of a problem. He feels the warm ache in his body that is, he decides, just a permanent horniness. It is like being thirteen. Just like hitting puberty again. Except this time everyone is really, really nice to him. The rest of the pack at least. Not that they aren't anyway, but as the days push on to his first flourish of werewolf fertility the pack are overwhelmingly affectionate, touching and cuddling him, getting him things, very attentive to his needs. Of course, he realises, it's in their nature to do that and take care of him because he is the mate of their Alpha and he will be providing babies for the pack.
Stiles doesn't freak out about this. Derek clearly does. He's jittery and wound up in a way that is probably natural, because their bodies want them to fuck. A lot. But Derek knows there is no way he'll be able to prevent getting Stiles pregnant. Eighteen-year-old Stiles. For one thing, Stiles' dad will kill him. For another thing, Stiles is eighteen, which no one else seems to be bothered about. Only Derek.
He makes the painstaking decision to not go anywhere near Stiles for the whole week of his heat. And it isn't just painful for Derek, throwing himself into isolation as far from everyone as he can get within reason, because he can still smell Stiles wherever he is. Because nature wants them to make babies and Derek is denying it and his cock is very, very displeased. It was expecting something and Derek is not delivering. It's painful for Stiles, too, not only because his body aches in a way that makes him wholly and a million percent sympathetic towards the girls around him, but because he loves Derek and he isn't around. He's pining. Worse, he feels constantly empty, constantly hungry, and God if he doesn't just want Derek inside him-
And with Derek absent and Stiles pining the rest of the pack are miserable as well. No amount of group hugs help anyone.
But Stiles is annoyingly understanding when Derek pads back home a week later, looking very sorry for himself and mumbling apologies. He's annoyingly understanding and incredibly loving and he understands, of course he understands, he felt it and it was frightening. The need. Actually needing someone like that, just a smell or a look or a touch enough to make him want to rip his clothes off and throw himself at Derek's feet and beg.
Derek nods and nods because he's been hard for a week now and though Stiles' scent is ebbing back to it's normal though no less glorious levels every time their skin meets it is fire through his nerves and yes, they'll need to go to bed soon because otherwise he's going to come in his pants from holding hands and he isn't thirteen-
Stiles nods and presses closer and yes, yes, of course, but do they have to go through this again next time? And the time after that? Because it's Hell and how is he supposed to be happy knowing they're going to be apart like that again? And again and again...
“You're eighteen, Stiles,” Derek says, because he is certain that everyone around here has forgotten. “You graduate soon, and then you're going to college. I'm not going to knock you up and steal your future,” he grumbles, pressing his face into Stiles' neck and breathing him in.
“Derek,” Stiles' voice is adopting the soft, reprimanding tone he uses when Derek is far too self-deprecating and there's no room for that here. (Derek enjoys it when Stiles reprimands him, even if he'll never admit it.) “Derek, you are my future. I don't know why you think I wouldn't factor this in to my life plan when you were all 'oh, Stiles, I can't live without you, you're my mate Sti-'” Derek nips and his neck and Stiles snorts. “No, but did you really think I wouldn't factor that in? You know I read up on everything. You know I knew what would happen and I still told you to bite me.”
“I like to think it was a little more romantic than that,” Derek says, lifting his face from Stiles' neck and smiling despite himself.
“Well, yeeeah, I guess, but that aside, Derek, I know what we're doing,” Stiles nods, running his fingers slowly across the back of Derek's head and smiling back at him. “I know you'll fill me with werepuppies and we'll have a big family and I'm fine with that. I want that. It's not like I can't work around the pups...” Derek snorts. He didn't think he could possibly love Stiles any more than he did, but apparently it's entirely possible. “...I could even work from home, once we get the house functioning properly and get WIFI. The babies aren't running around there as it is, they'll get splinters in their paws.”
This time Derek lifts his head, looking down at his partner with incredulous adoration.
“You know they aren't actually going to be puppies, don't you?” he asks.
Stiles grins. “I am ready for this, Derek,” he says, running his fingers through Derek's hair. “We're doing this.”
“Your dad is going to kill me.”
“He might try, yeah.”
“Stiles!”
“Ah, it's fine. I'll make sure he doesn't. It'll be okay.”
~*~
Stiles doesn't have another heat until the first week of summer, which is good because then school is over, they've graduated, they're free. And again everyone knows that it's coming. Derek begins to get agitated about a week before it starts, looking at Stiles as though he's angry with him, but it gives Stiles chills because he knows that every time he looks at him Derek is thinking about fucking him.
Which he really is. He wants Stiles beneath him, around him, clinging to him, begging him- he wants to make him come hard, wants to come inside him, fill him, leave him spent and satisfied and full of his babies.
And Stiles' scent tells him his mate wants it just as much.
The rest of the pack become slightly over excitable, though Stiles really doesn't mind. He relishes the affection as he did the first time, though this time he knows he isn't going to be abandoned and left feeling empty and numb. Because the way Derek looks at him he knows he's biding his time, counting down the moments before he claims him properly.
Peter obligingly takes the pack away for a few nights. He says they're going to Vegas. They probably do, but Derek doesn't care and Stiles barely notices they're gone.
It all reaches a peak suddenly and it's like a switch inside him is flicked. He's suddenly solely focussed on Derek, standing on the other side of the room, his eyes on him like a caress.
“Bed,” Stiles says. Derek follows, though not all the way. He stands in the doorway and watches Stiles as he climbs onto the bed and rolls, pressing his face into the pillows and then wriggling on the covers, his clothes feeling rough against his skin that is a hundred-thousand times too sensitive at the moment. And he so desperately wants Derek to join him.
But Derek isn't moving, no matter how much they clearly want to be on each other, and it takes a moment for Stiles to realise that he has to give Derek some kind of permission, a signal that he is ready for him.
Derek's eyes are a soft red and Stiles realises he's close to shifting, but he's holding back- waiting. If Stiles ever doubted Derek loved him this is all the proof he needs to push those concerns away.
“Take your clothes off,” Stiles whispers, wondering if being commanding is something he can get away with right now.
Apparently it is, because Derek obediently pulls his shirt off, unveiling his upper body, his skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat, no doubt from restraining himself.
Stiles' eyes devour him greedily and this sight alone would be enough to make him all the more desperate, but for the addition of Derek's scent, trapped beneath his shirt but now filling the air around them and making Stiles all but drunk with desire.
Derek's hands move to his belt and then the buttons and zipper of his jeans in quick succession until he's stood in only his underwear and Stiles is staring longingly at the very obvious bulge of Derek's cock. Then the boxers are gone and Stiles feels an ache deep, deep inside of him. He can see the need in Derek's eyes, see how he's barely holding himself together, and Stiles can't deny either of them anymore.
The mixed sounds of their breathing and heartbeats is all that can be heard as Stiles swiftly and ungracefully pulls off his own clothes. Derek's gaze burns into him and Stiles finally eases himself back onto the bed.
Even though they don't need the bed, even though they'll probably ruin it. He rolls onto his back, stretches and shifts.
It's a liberating feeling but for the overwhelmingly heightened senses, thiough this time it's only Derek. All that he can smell and hear is Derek and when he opens his eyes he sees his mate, large and dark and shaggy, pacing restlessly up and down beside the bed, his red eyes never leaving Stiles.
Stiles' tail wags. He's still on his bed and he whines once and only once before Derek leaks up beside him.
Stiles is a beautiful wolf. His back and tail and legs are dark brown, almost black. His muzzle, throat, and belly are white.
They look at each other, Stiles' tail still wagging as Derek steps forward, paws either side of his mate's body. He dips his head and licks Stiles' nose. Stiles is completely enamoured and gently tips his head back, exposing his throat to Derek's nose or tongue or teeth if he so chooses, offering himself up.
He hears Derek growl and it's certainly a happy noise. His nose presses into Stiles' throat and he nuzzles and Stiles' whines and now there is no reason for either of them to hold back.
Stiles rolls on to his belly beneath Derek, pressing his nose against the pillow where Derek's regular, comforting smell lingers, because even though every part of him is naturally and eagerly responding to Derek he is still nervous. Not about mating o babies or even the fact that they have never fucked as wolves before - he's nervouse because he wants this to be good. Because it's important, because he just wants to blow Derek's mind in every way he can.
Derek nuzzles into the nape of his neck and Stiles feels the press of Derek's cock against his tailbone. He moves slightly, lifting his lower body, pushing his tail to one side and bracing himself despite the now almost painful ache in his body as it demands to be filled.
Derek is a whimpering mess before he can even mount Stiles. The fur around Stiles' entrance is wet and Derek has no idea why they haven't done this before. He thinks that he's embarrassingly close to coming already, even before the blinding pleasure that follows his cock finally sinking into Stiles' body.
Stiles whimpers beneath him, but his own cock is leaking onto his belly and the sheets. Derek is bigger - or feels bigger - in wolf form, but the stretch doesn't hurt. It's oh so satisfying, a soul deep satisfaction that is blinding in it's wonder.
Derek growls, verbalising a similarly satisfied sensation as Stiles' body quivers and grips him when he thrusts in, slow at first, easing the full length of his cock into Stiles and then drawing back, tantalisingly sweet pressure and friction that make him groan softly with every inward thrust of his hips. He can hear Stiles whimpering happily beneath him and he knows from the arch of his mate's back and the tip of his head that, whilst really good, he wants more. Derek's chest is pressed to Stiles' spine, his paws braced by the curve of Stiles' forelegs where they rest on the bed. He's braced and steady and he can use the power in his hind legs to push forward faster, harder, the pleasure doubling instantly. Rumbles of happiness roll in his chest and below Stiles continues to whine softly, lifting his lower body higher, to take Derek deeper, clawing helplessly at the sheets they really will need to replace now.
Stiles is panting slightly. Derek really does feel huge and the deeper he thrusts the bigger he feels but the more satisfied he is. Derek is pressing into his core and Stiles is complete. He is complete and he can tell from the way that Derek is fucking him that he's getting closer and closer. He'll knot just before he comes and Stiles looks forward to that. To that tight, full feeling that will follow, that will be the climax (literally and metaphorically) of this love making. His body will do the rest. And that thought alone is enough to send a jolt of pleasure right through him, making his muscles tremble and pulling a growl from Derek. The growl is followed by the incredible sensation of Derek's cock swelling inside him. Really swelling.
Derek bites the scruff of Stiles' neck gently, as though he needs to hold him in place, as though Stiles is going to leave before they're done. But he's beginning to knot and he's close, so close, and it's quicker than he'd have wanted but he can't help himself. Stiles feel tighter and tighter and Derek growls finally, the sound slightly muffled by Stiles' fur, but the little howl of pleasure from his mate is a perfect substitute. Derek comes and he shudders with the force and the intensity of it, grateful for the position they're in or he probably wouldn't be able to keep himself standing.
Stiles feels the rush of heat deep in his body. He's felt it before- Derek has come inside him before, but this time it's different. This time it feels as though the heat ebbs through every space inside of him.
His orgasm is hard and blinding and makes his legs shake and his muscles can't contract around Derek so all he feels is full, blissfully full. He can feel the pounding of Derek's heart against his back and the continuous pulse in his cock. His back legs lower slowly so that he's laying on the bed with Derek laying on him, his mate nuzzling his neck and licking his ears in what Stiles knows would be passionate, post-coital kisses if they were in human form. He'd wag his tail if Derek weren't still filling him.
~*~
Stiles knows immediately, the morning after kind of immediately. It's an odd sensation to realise that whilst you were sleeping your body was going about starting to make a baby. It's not bad yet. It's not a morning sickness kind of knowing. It's just a knowing.
He tells Derek as soon as he wakes up and the expression on Derek's face is one of the most beautiful things Stiles has ever seen. A bashful yet proud smile that, as the day progresses, as the rest of the pack wake up and notice, turns into a rather smug grin. Because they do notice straight away and Stiles has to admit that he loves the attention, the way they shuffle around him in wonder because he's carrying their alpha's baby.
Derek spends a lot of his time fussing properly, fetching unnecessary things that Stiles doesn't need (mainly food, so he's sure he's putting on actual fat rather than baby weight) and shouting at the rest of the pack to try and get the house in some kind of shape before his first child arrives.
Stiles loves being pregnant. He takes to it the way he takes to every odd challenge that has been faced with; with enthusiasm and some dignity. Some. Because he really does enjoy the way everyone fusses over him. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac forever want to be near him or fetch him things or touch him and it's nice, it's really, really nice. And Derek is growly and over protective, which is enjoyable. And Scott is confused most of the time they're together. Which is a lot. Because Derek doesn't trust Scott with any of the home improvements, so he's roped in to take care of Stiles when the rest of them are busy. It's confusing for Scott for many reasons, the least of all is that Stiles is carrying a baby werewolf. The most confusing thing is actually that his best friend is having a baby, and is going to be a parent. And the enormity of this is mind blowing. And terrifying. Especially since Stiles is just so relaxed about the whole thing.
But summer passes and Stiles is only three months pregnant when Scott and Allison, and Lydia, Jackson, and Boyd all head for colleges. Harder still than their sudden absence is the fact that they won't be there for the birth or the difficult few months of the last trimester when Stiles, whilst only sporting a very small bump and perfectly capable of looking after himself, is miserable and lonely and cries for hours and doesn't let Derek console him, which distresses Derek a great deal.
"My wife was exactly the same," Sheriff Stilinski says when Derek, completely stricken and without any other option, brings Stiles home to his dad and the familiar surroundings of his room. "And I did exactly the same thing. We had to high tail to New York for two months so that she could be with her mom."
Derek is partially comforted and partially upset that he can't be the supportive partner he wishes to be. But the Sheriff, God bless him, lets Derek stay too. And never once breathes a word about the fact that his eighteen year old boy is on the verge of parenthood. With a werewolf. Because it's probably obvious that Derek dotes on Stiles, and there isn't really a bad word he can say against his son's mate, even when he finds him splayed grumpily in wolf form in the driveway looking oddly more stressed out than he did in human form.
"Pre-parenthood nerves, buddy," the sheriff says, stooping to pet Derek's head. Derek's tail wags slightly. It's nice to be understood.
Stiles goes into labour in the middle of the day, when Derek is watering the plants in the back yard and Mr. Stilinski is reading the newspaper out loud to him. Derek hears Stiles' first whimper and pales so suddenly the sheriff thinks he's going to pass out. And then Stiles moans and both men stare at each other, fearful, nervous, and excited all in one second. One second before Stiles slams open the back door and glares at them, the front of his trackpants soaked from his waters breaking, the look in his eyes both deadly and alarmed. His fingers grip the door frame, his other hand resting against his stomach.
“I'm going to kill you both very slowly if you don't do something right now-” he growls.
Derek was around for the birth of his brothers and sisters. Home births are a necessity with wolves, just in case there's a furry little problem, rare as it is. So he knows what he's doing. Kind of. And Sheriff Stilinski was there when Stiles was born, so he has his son's hand in his own, a rather dazed look on his face as he realises, once again, that his son is giving birth.
Their daughter is tiny and perfect, though, with a shock of dark hair and Stiles' huge brown eyes. Derek openly weeps once he's handed her to his mate, sinking down to the floor beside the bed and staring at the two of them as though he's about to burst with all of the love inside him. Mr. Stilinski slips away to 'give them some privacy', though both Derek and Stiles can hear him on the phone to Scott's mom, crying and babbling on about his granddaughter.
Stiles is tired. He's tired to the very marrow of his bones but he's equally fascinated by the way she seems to know instinctively want to do as she wriggles against his chest and finds his nipple, her tiny hands kneading the area around it to stimulate the milk flow. Stiles stares at her in wonder and then at Derek beside him. The miracle of life indeed.
Derek watches the two of them lazily, his fingers running up and down the inside of Stiles' arm, a dopey smile on his face. He partially debates whether he should ask Stiles if he has any regrets because there really is no going back now, but Stiles is staring at their baby with such adoration, petting her messy almost-black hair as she quietly suckles, that there's no point. The love is completely instantaneous for both of them. Their eyes meet, flicking towards each other and they share a smile.
“This is just the start,” Stiles grins lazily, lifting his hand up and patting Derek gently on the cheek. “Sour wolf doesn't look so sour any more.”
“Shut up, Stiles.”